


The Pins Stick Farther In

by kurtwinchester



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Erotophonophilia, Gen, Horror, Minor Dubious Consent, Original Character(s), Sadism, Vampire!Kurt, Violence, bisexual!Kurt, grotesque images, pseudo-character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurtwinchester/pseuds/kurtwinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt's been having these dreams lately.  Ones where he doesn't realize he's actually dreaming despite the peculiar creatures dwelling inside them.  At first, he doesn't think much of them.  He's been working on his final paper for his folklore class and reading dozens of articles and books for it.  It makes sense he'd start dreaming about weird stuff.  Besides, he's kind of going through a tough time right now with the added stress of taking the maximum number of hours for the school term, his failed attempts at dating his best friend, and oh yeah, two of his classmates were found murdered, and there's a slight possibility that he's next.  Dreams about monsters?  Not so high on his list of priorities right now.  But then, as he's waiting for the bus one night, Kurt comes to realize that monsters are real, his dreams are real, and he's a goddamn vampire.  Wtf, Gary.  Wtf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pins Stick Farther In

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of the 'additional tags' are for certain scenes that will appear in later chapters. Most of the folklore/creatures/rules that you will read are my own creations.
> 
> The title comes from Tim Burton's "Voodoo Girl".
> 
> Special thanks to my betas, my sister Ina and bff Cruzer, for being my soundboards and better English people than me. To Nan, my artist, who did a fantastic job with the art! Go reblog [here](http://goldenslumbr.tumblr.com/post/78496620868/so-ive-got-a-great-opportunity-to-make-a-drawing). Originally this was for the KHBB, but things got in the way of me finishing this on time.

_They spoke in unison.  Telling him how they would slowly drive him insane by gnawing on his insides.  A little nibble here.  A little nibble there.  He could scream and cry for help all he wanted.  No one would hear.  No one would see.  No one would ever know where he was to help rip him out of this delusional state of mind he was trapped in.  He would rot in their world; feel the worms of their reality crawling deep within his skin; feel their claws twisting and crushing his mind into a puddle of delirium. **We told you Kurt** , they say, and he cringes and shudders as their voices ring heavily in his mind.  **This is your home now.  Hell is where you belong**._

***

She's a curious thing, trapped and twisted painfully inside a bottle of absinthe.  Her skin glows green, as does the liquid that reaches a little past her hips, and her red hair is tangled in the rips of her translucent wings.  She has on this tiny, lime colored dress that barely covers her pert ass and her breasts, and when she moves just a fraction that the cramped space will allow, her left nipple slips out.  From the way she bites her bottom lip, and looks at him from under hooded eyes, he knows she has done that on purpose. 

"She likes you," the shop owner says from behind him, amusement evident in her voice.  "She doesn't usually like anyone."

"Is that so?" Kurt says, reaching out to stroke a finger against the curve of the bottle where the fairy's head was.  The fairy's red eyes shine brightly at the gesture, and she strokes her hand against the bottle to mimic his movements, a toothy smile forming on her face.  Her left breast is completely exposed now.  Kurt clears his throat.  "Why is she in there?" 

"That's where she was born," the owner answers.

Kurt frowns.  "How is that possible?"

There's a soft rustle of fabric and the creaking of floorboards.  Kurt turns his head slightly to find the owner now standing beside him, her brown eyes peering curiously at him.  A shiver runs down his spine at her scrutiny, and he can't help but shrink back even though her stance is not threatening.  There was just something with the way her eyes roamed over the lines of his face, something calculating, and it didn't settle right with him. 

"You're a curious thing," she says after a moment.  "Aren't you?"

Kurt shuffles back a few inches, stuffs his hands in his jean pockets with uncertainty.  "I don't know what you mean."

The owner smiles, the outer corners of her eyes crinkling in warm mirth.  "Green Fairies are born from the mixture of wormwood, anise, a sprinkle of death, and the scent of arousal," she says, her eyes now focused strictly on his face.  "It takes about three decades for them to properly grow, and only a few days, once released, to die.  Of course," she says, tilting her head towards the green fairy on the shelf whose right breast was now exposed.  "There are some forms of the Green Fairy that latch onto the soul of whoever breaks their bottle, and become," she considers her next words with a slight _hmm_ , "an eternal love slave, if you will."

"And what about the ones that die after a few days?  What are they for?"

"Creativity."

"Oh," Kurt raises an eyebrow.

"And sex," she adds a bit deviously. 

Kurt snorts.  "Right, because those two so often go together."

"You'd be surprised," she says, giving the air around Kurt another searching look.  After a few seconds she clucks her tongue and flicks her eyes over his body dismissively.  Kurt briefly wonders if this newfound sentiment towards him came from her not finding what she was looking for, or finding what she was looking for and not liking what she found.  "If you need anything," she says with a tight smile.  "Let me know."  With a curt nod, she walks to the other side of the room. 

Kurt narrows his eyes at her retreating form, confusion and irritation slinking around inside him.  He doesn't get a chance to dwell on the peculiarity of the situation though, as the overhead lights start to flicker, and a steady pulse, high-pitched and irritating, shatters through the calming silence of the shop.   

Kurt searches the room, his eyes drifting over the various pieces of furniture and knickknacks that are growing fuzzy around the edges.  The fairy and the shop owner, the only other two living beings in the room besides himself, are frozen mid-movement.  Beneath his feet, the solidity of the floor wavers, and he stumbles into a shelf to his right, watches with a building anxiety as its contents spill in slow motion to the floor.  An uncomfortable knot forms in the pit of his stomach as he realizes where he is.

"Oh, shit."

All at once, the threads holding his dream together breaks, and the shop starts to melt around him in a sickening beauty of mosaic art.  Kurt groans, rubs the heel of his hands against his eyes.  "Not again," he whispers out as a lull of heaviness forms around his eyes.  "Not again, Kurt.  Come on."

He sinks down to the floor, keeps his eyes closed against the smothering darkness he knows is surrounding him.  "Wake up, Kurt," he whispers, as the noise around him grows louder, clearer, _familiar_.  "Wake up.  Just wake up."  He runs his hands through his hair, tugs sharply, and tries to focus on that melody he can hear forcing its way through in his mind.  "This isn't real.  You know this isn't real.  Focus.  Come on, Kurt.  Wake up, _wake up, WAKE UP!_ " 

An abrupt silence washes over him.  For a few seconds ‒ or maybe a few minutes, Kurt can't properly tell in his current state of unsteadiness ‒ he feels weightless.  Then slowly, the silence filters out of his ears, and his body prickles with newly awakened nerves.  He takes in a stuttering breath through his nose and sneezes as the strong scent of peaches and raspberries penetrates his sinuses.  He crinkles his nose in distaste.  He'd forgotten about the air freshener.  The one Rachel had placed on top his dresser the other day because she said his apartment was smelling too much like a boy's locker room. (Kurt had rightfully taken offense to that.)  But, even though he wasn't particularly fond of the damn air freshener, the scent was a comforting reminder that he was no longer trapped in that frightening semblance of reality. 

He was awake.

_"Do I wanna know... If this feeling flows both ways..."_

"Oh, yeah," Kurt mumbles at the sound of his phone rattling across his nightstand, the same sound that had broken the spell of his dream.

Kurt reaches out for his phone and curses the name flashing on the screen as he answers. 

"What you want, Ellison?"  Kurt slurs out around the dry, stickiness of his mouth.

"Why aren't you answering your phone?"  Jason Ellison demands, his voice thickly accented with a Texas twang that, despite living in Manhattan for four years, had yet to weaken.

"Because," Kurt says, tilting his head to glance at the glowing red numbers of his alarm clock on the nightstand, "it's three in the fucking morning."

"Yeah, and you're usually up at this time reading, stress baking, smoking weed, or fucking someone."

Kurt winces.  "Not when I have lab at seven am."

There's a moment of white noise, then a heavy sigh.  "Sorry," Jason breathes out.  "You know I didn't mean that.  I just..."  Jason is silent for a moment, and Kurt shifts onto his back, confusion and curiosity scouring the edges of his mind.  Finally, Jason lets out in a rush: "I think someone's following me."

"What?"

"I think someone's following me."

"What do you- where are you?"

"A few blocks away from my apartment," Jason answers, a slight nervousness creeping into his voice.  "I was at the diner behind Parsons finishing up the paper for Deaton's class.  Kind of lost track of time.  Started walking back a few minutes ago, and then..."

"And then?"  Kurt prompts.

"And then I heard this... this laughter," Jason said, his voice wavering.  "From down one of them alleyways." 

Kurt furrows his brows in confusion.  "You heard laughter?"

"Yeah."

"Down an alleyway?"

"Yeah."

"How far back did you hear it?"

"A few blocks."

"Do you still hear the laughter now?"

Jason takes a moment to answer.  "No, I don't hear anything."

"Ellison," Kurt starts carefully.  "What makes you think someone's following you?"

"What do you mean?"

"That was a straightforward question Ellison.  I didn't mean anything else by it."

Jason sputters.  "I'm not making this up Kurt!"

"I didn't say you were."  Kurt bites his lip, unsure of how he wanted to go about this in a way that wouldn't set Jason off.  "I just think that maybe you're kind of letting your research get the better of you.  You did say you were working on the paper for Deaton, right?  The pixie paper?"

"That doesn't mean shit Kurt," Jason snarls.  "I'm not having some schizophrenic meltdown, and hearing pixies tinkling about like something from one of your fucked up dreams or Miles's alien-abduction-time-loss plots.  This is real, okay?  I can feel it.  I know someone is fucking following me!"

"Okay, okay," Kurt says, rubbing a hand over his face in slight exasperation.  "Just, tell me where you're at exactly and I'll meet you there with a cab."

"You don't have to," Jason says.  "I just wanted someone on the other end as I get home."

"I don't mind," Kurt says getting up from his bed.

Jason sighs heavily in Kurt's ear, and the line crackles.  "I'm at the intersection of‒ wait."

"Ellison?"

"I think there's‒"

"Can you help me?"  Interrupts a soft voice of little girl.

Kurt pauses as he's slipping on his shoe.  "Who was that?"

"It's," Jason lets out a disbelieving sigh that's barely audible over the growing buzzing on the line.  "It's a little girl."

"What's a little girl doing there?"  Kurt asks.

The little girl speaks again, but the growing static makes it hard for him to hear her.

"Yeah," Jason says, answering whatever it is the little girl asked.  "Yeah, I'll help you."

"Ellison," Kurt calls out.  "What are you doing?"

"She's lost, Kurt.  I can't leave her out here alone."

"Call the cops then."

There's a pause, and Kurt knows Jason's hesitating at the notion of relinquishing his chance of helping the little girl, being a _hero_.

"Fuck, this isn't a time for your hero complex Ellison."  Kurt finishes putting on his shoes, and heads towards the bedroom door.

"It's alright," Jason says.  "I'll be fine okay."

"No, I'll be there‒"

"I'll call the cops okay, I promise," Jason says firmly.  "Just get back to bed."

"El," Kurt says, biting his bottom lip uncertainly.

"I'll text you in the morning.  Okay?"

"Ugh," Kurt strangles out, not liking this situation one bit.  "Fine, fine.  Just text me when you get home."

Jason chuckles at that.  "I will."

Kurt opens his mouth to say good-bye, but the call has ended, the screen switching back to the picture of him and his best friend Stiles sharing a shake at the Spotlight Diner.  He closes his eyes, counts to five, opens them, and tosses his phone back on his nightstand. 

"Asshole's, totally gonna forget texting me," he grumbles before crawling back into bed.

**Author's Note:**

> So that was the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it :) 
> 
> Little facts: Kurt's the only person who calls Jason by his last name. His ringtone is the Arctic Monkey's "Do I Wanna Know". The diner Jason was working on his paper at was the French Roast (I've never been there). Their professor, Dr. Deaton, is the same Deaton from Teen Wolf.


End file.
